The Lass Who Kissed a Frog, Lee, Caroline [i have read the book a hundred times .txt] 📗

kiss was the excuse her body had been waiting for, and she touched him entirely without guidance from her mind. Her palms skimmed up the strong muscles of his upper arms, then scratched at his sideburns, then moved around to cup the back of his head, tugging his tam off so she could touch his hair.

Dear Lord in Heaven.

There’d been a moment at the ball, which now seemed so long ago, when she’d thought Roland would kiss her. He hadn’t, although she’d been near breathless from anticipation.

But whatever that kiss would’ve been, she knew—knew—it wouldn’t have been anywhere near as miraculous as this one.

And it was much better than kissing a frog.

He was the one who pulled away first, and a voice in the back of her mind whispered that it was likely a smart move, since she didn’t appear to be capable of stopping. If events remained in her hands, she’d likely have him down on the ground, straddling his hardness, just so she could rub against—

With a groan, she closed her eyes on her own wanton thoughts. Ye dinnae even ken his name!

He seemed to echo the groan as he pressed his forehead against her. “I ken,” he whispered.

She was trying to get her breathing under control. “I dinnae even ken yer name.”

“Roland.”

It wasn’t the word, but the way he froze after he whispered it, that made her realize something was wrong. She forced her mind to catch up with her ears. What had he said?

Roland.

Roland?

Sucking in a startled breath, she reared back. “Roland?” she blurted.

It was the look of guilt in his eye, more than anything, which told the truth.

That, and the fact the ubiquitous tam was lying on the ground, and she could see the shape of his face clearly for the first time, even with the beard.

“Roland!” Reaching out, she ripped the eyepatch from his head, trying not to care as it snagged and pulled on his ear.

Sure enough, two perfect eyes blinked down at her, then shifted their gaze away.

She’d thought her Froggie’s eyes had been green, but here and now, shadowed by guilt, she saw they were Roland’s hazel, as changeable as he apparently was.

Pushing away from him, she scrambled to her feet. “It is ye!” she accused, as she tripped over her skirt and stumbled slightly. Righting herself, she whirled back to him. “Roland? Ye’ve been my Froggie all along?’

She’d slept against his shoulder. She’d admired his legs. She’d held his hand.

Ye kissed him too, remember?

Dear Lord in Heaven.

He rose to his feet, slower than she had.

“It’s me, Vanessa,” he admitted in a low voice.

“Why would ye do this?” she whispered, lifting shaking fingers to press against her lips, and trying to forget how good he’d tasted. “Why?”

He winced and ran his hand through his hair. “Because…I thought ye were vain and self-centered,” he finally admitted. “I thought ye were cruel and…”

Her traveling companion was Roland. Roland was her Froggie. The man who’d taught her so much about herself, who’d made her feel strong and capable and determined…and he was the man she once thought she loved.

Ye loved him for his money and his handsome face and his charming manners.

Her subconscious’s tone was surprisingly sly, and Vanessa tried to ignore what it meant. She’d thought she loved him, but the reasons had been as superficial as his opinion of her had been.

But all she said was, “I’m no’ cruel.”

He scrubbed a hand over his face. “Can ye blame me for thinking that?”

And in that moment, she understood.

She knew why he’d done this, why he’d tricked her. She remembered what she’d told him yesterday—Oh God, had it only been yesterday? Her heart had changed so much in such a short amount of time!— on the train about how she’d wanted to marry a viscount. And why it hadn’t happened.

“Because of what I said,” she whispered dully, turning away from him. “What ye heard me say about yer brother.”

It hadn’t been a question. But as she looked out over the completed dig, knowing—knowing—the sphaera was already beyond her reach, she heard him shift behind her, and mutter, “Aye.”

Vanessa straightened her spine, knowing he was watching her, and not sure how she could keep from falling apart while he watched. He’d done this to her in revenge, she knew it.

And despite the pain of knowing all the feelings from the last few days were false, she also knew she deserved it.

She cleared her throat. “And yer intentions in response to my words, milord? It was all an elaborate plan…to what?”

He didn’t speak for a long moment, but then she heard him blow out a breath. “To humiliate ye, Vanessa.”

Squeezing her eyes shut on the tears, she managed to keep her breathing from sounding like a sob. This man had just stripped her down to her very soul, making her feel better than any person ever had…and then admitted it had all been in an attempt to hurt her.

She couldn’t allow him to see how much that hurt.

There was nothing here for her anymore. The sphaera was gone, and her self-respect along with it.

Stiffly, she turned toward the curricle and the distant horse, contently munching on grass. Her carpetbag was there, and she could return to York. There was an afternoon train which would return her home in the wee morning hours. Inconvenient, yes, but she couldn’t stay here any longer.

To humiliate ye, Vanessa.

She lifted her chin, took in a slow breath, and kept her voice from shaking by sheer will alone. “It worked.”

Chapter 9

“Oh dear. Oh dear, oh dear—”

“Calm down, Willa, things are not—”

“Actually, Evangeline, she might be correct in her response. Things do look verra bad. I cannae believe Seonag got the crystal ball working just in time to witness that! How in the world did they get to York? That isnae in the original Number Forty-Seven.”

“Oh dear.”

“You might be right, Grisel. But, Willa dear, do try to keep yourself calm. It only looks bad because we missed out on the middle bits.”

“And